Distance
by story2tell
Summary: "When I drag my brother back from the edge and deliver him back to you, I want you to remember the things you felt when he was gone." Damon loves Elena but he realizes it will always be Stefan. *Set durning the time before Stefan returns in season 3* one sided Delena


_Please don't stand so close to me_

_I'm having trouble breathing_

_I'm afraid of what you'll see right now_

_I give you everything I am_

_All my broken heart beats_

_Until I know you'll understand._

"Why are you here, Damon?" she huffs in exasperation, turning away from him sharply when she caught sight of him lounging on the edge of her bed.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he answers with a smirk, though his eyes stared at the way her hair, the color of rich earth, swished like an oriental fan as she turned. She faced her mirror, savagely brushing the side of her head. He liked it when she was annoyed.

But he liked her hair even more and he wanted to know if it felt like silk as much as it looked like it. He reached out a hand and fingered the very tips of the strands. He felt a rush of satisfaction. It was much softer than silk—some unknown material made for the gods. He drew his hand back quickly though, when she turned back towards him, her face pinched.

"I really don't have time for this right now," she snapped as she snatched up her make-up bag from the bed next to him and turned back towards the mirror. Damon raised his eyebrows, watching her face through the mirror. She didn't even bother looking at him and the only indication that she noticed him staring was the high flush on her cheeks. He wanted to touch her skin right where it was the deepest red. He could imagine how warm it would be beneath his fingers. Beneath his lips. The humanity side of him did a hop, skip, and a jump as he felt the longing in his chest and the guilt of his impulsive and reckless behavior that had constantly pushed the girl away. He was quick to smother it.

"You're still mad at me about what I said about Stefan." Damon stated, cocking his head, gingerly reaching out a hand to touch her hair again. She didn't even notice.

"He called me, Damon. How could his humanity be completely gone if he called me?"

"You didn't see what I saw, Elena." He gathered several more strands of hair into his palm, watching as the sun made it glimmer as he tilted his hand towards the window. "He's just 'the Ripper' now, answering Klaus' every beck and call." He released her hair and admired it as it fell back into place, perfect as ever. He raised his eyes to watch her twirl a mascara wand onto her upper eyelashes. She straightened for a moment to eye herself critically in the mirror. He could tell she didn't like what she saw.

_Why are doing that? _He wanted to demand. He had the urge to snatch her makeup bag from her dresser. _You don't need that shit! _He wanted to tell her that she was in every way beautiful and that she shouldn't be looking at herself with disdain. As he stared at her, Damon couldn't see a single imperfection. Instead he said: "Don't stop now—gotta make sure you cover up every single, itty-bitty imperfection." As soon as he spoke, he wanted to somehow grab the words mid-air and stuff them back in his mouth.

Elena shot him a disgusted look through the mirror then quickly retorted: "You're going to need a little bit more than make-up to cover up _your_ numerous imperfections."

"_Ouch._" That hurt. Damon quirked an eyebrow at her. "I might have deserved that."

Elena went back to her make-up, her face in a permanent scowl from Damon's pervious comments. Damon rolled his eyes to the ceiling and took it upon himself to count the little cracks in the fading paint. He had gotten to 137 when Elena interrupted him.

"I can't give up, Damon," she said. "Not after everything we've been through. I have to keep hoping."

"Hope's a bitch, Elena. Get over it while you can." _Why did I say that?_

Elena turned back around; the undisguised hurt in her eyes sent a tinge of guilt through Damon's chest. "How could you saw that? He's your brother."

" So? I'm not saying that he isn't," Damon said. " I'm saying that Stefan has built himself a delusional wagon that he's repeatedly fallen off of. And when he falls, he falls hard. Don't expect him to return in your life time, honey. I don't want to get your hopes high for no reason."

"I refuse to believe that."

"And I refuse to believe politicians have fully functional brains. Now that we got that off our chests, lets move on."

Silence. Elena quietly set down her mascara and swept her long hair up into a high ponytail. Damon wished she hadn't for he want to touch the softer-than-silk strands a few more times before he left. She refused to meet his eye and went about her room, picking up things off the floor and pushing her chair back under her small desk. The look on her face was forlorn and Damon wished he had the power to take away all her distorted feelings and make her smile. He hadn't seen that smile in a while and it made him feel hot with jealously and anger.

"Why do you look like someone just shot a panda bear?" he inquired in a pushy voice.

Elena shrugged, crossing her arms. Her face held an overwhelming sadness. "I love him, Damon. I love Stefan so much and it hurts to bear the thought of never seeing him again. It hurts too much. I've lost so many people that I care about and I'm sick of it." She looked at him directly and repeated; "It hurts too much. That's why I can't give up on him."

With a quick, inner _snap! _Damon reigned in his sudden flood of emotions. What was he doing here? Even if his younger brother was gone, lost deep in a drinking binge of human blood, Elena still belonged to him. She would never give a second thought for Damon. It was Stefan. It would always be Stefan. No matter what Damon did, or said, or gave up, the only one in Elena's vision was his baby brother and it would never be him. It would always be Stefan.

Anger surged through his veins and Damon stood, towering over Elena's slender figure. She jumped, startled by his sudden motion, her hands suddenly gripping the dresser behind her in fear. Damon liked the way her heart beat fluttered and stumbled in her rising anxiety. If he couldn't get her to love him back, than at least he could make her feel something almost as strong as.

"I'm not giving up, Damon." Elena bravely said in a low and fierce voice though her dark eyes glittered with nervousness at speaking so boldly to him.

Damon let a half smile flit over his face. His tilted his head so that his face was closer to hers and lifted his hand, she flinched, and ran his fingers through the length of her ponytail.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a tremor in her voice. "Do you exist just to get reactions out of people?"

He didn't answer her. That flush was back again, coloring her cheeks a rosy red and he raised his thumb to smooth it over her heated cheeks. The warmth blazing off her skin was exquisite and he would be content to stay here in this one place, touching her skin, smelling the sweetness of her breath and tasting the spice of her bloody scent laced in the air.

"Why don't you ever let anyone see the good in you?" she whispered, her glaring eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"When people see good they expect good. And I don't wanna live up to anyone's expectations." He answered in an equally soft voice, his face a smirk, carefully laying his fully hand on the side of her face. He closed his eyes as he felt the slight tremors quaking through the muscles of her cheek.

"I know it's there." Her voice was stronger now. The side of her lips brushed his palm in feathery lightness as she spoke. Damon pretended it was kiss that made her lips touch his skin. Then another swell of anger filled his veins. He grabbed her upper arm in his free hand and the pain that spiked her heart beat made him regret his move.

"I'm not Stefan, Elena. You can't turn me into him. I'm always going to be me. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"I know," Elena answered, wrenching herself free of his grasp. She backed up until she was a few feet away and out of my reach before she crossed her arms in defiance. "And I'm not trying to. Just because you're Damon doesn't mean you're not a good man."

And just as quickly as it came, the anger and jealousy he was feeling drained away, leaving him feeling empty. "I'm sorry," he muttered like a petulant child. When he looked up, he saw Elena watching him with something akin to compassion.

"I love you Elena." Damon said suddenly.

Elena only blinked. "I know. But I loved Stefan first and for me, it's always going to be him. Even when things are as dark as they are now, I'm still going to love him. He saved my life—not just me from drowning but he made me want to live again when all I was doing was surviving."

"I know." Damon sighed and ran a hand through his hair before stepping forward until they were chest to chest and Damon was looking down into her dark eyes. He cupped her face gently in his hands and whispered: "I promise, Elena, to do everything in my power to get Stefan back for you. But you have to promise me something, Elena, as well."

"What, Damon?" she asked, her eyes searching his ice blue ones".

"When I drag my brother back from the edge and deliver him back to you, I want you to remember the things you felt when he was gone." Damon's lips brushed her smooth forehead briefly before he stepped back, gave her one last lingering look, and disappeared.

_So I'll make sure to keep my distance_

_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_

_How long can we keep this up?_


End file.
